


Trimming the Tree

by fadedink



Series: Days of Christmas - 2013 [11]
Category: Actor RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF, Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Baking, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadedink/pseuds/fadedink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orlando wants a tree, Katie pitches in, and Karl just rolls with it as always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trimming the Tree

**Author's Note:**

> The 11th Day of Christmas for [starrwisher](http://starrwisher.livejournal.com) because she deserves it. :)

We should put the tree up today, Orlando tells them.

Katie just points out – as she flips another page in her magazine – that they haven't bought the tree yet. It's necessary, you know.

Orlando blows a raspberry. When that gets no reaction, he tugs off his sock and throws it at her head. And though it falls far short of even coming close, it gets a reaction.

As she launches herself at him, pillow in hand and already swinging, Karl quietly gets up and goes into the kitchen.

They need cookies.

*

Two days later, Orlando mentions a tree again.

When Katie looks at him, eyes narrowed (clearly, she hasn't forgotten the Great Sock Incident yet), Orlando crosses his own eyes and sticks out his tongue.

Karl reminds them that they're all adults. The words earn him two sets of rolled eyes.

He's not surprised.

You're on tinsel duty, Katie says after a moment.

Oi, I am not!

Are, too.

Am not!

Are.

No! Orlando turns beseeching eyes towards Karl.

Karl mumbles something about muffins, or maybe cupcakes, and beats a hasty retreat.

*

Somehow they figure out how to work together.

As Karl stands at the front door, keys in hand, he's not exactly comforted by that fact.

There's a tree in the living room. Or, more accurately, there's a tree taking up _half_ of the living room. The tree is a good six feet or so in diameter at the base and easily twelve feet tall.

The ceiling, however, is only ten feet high.

Karl tilts his head and wonders how they're going to put the star on the top when the top is bent over like Free Willy's dorsal fin.

The occasion, he decides, calls for poundcake. A lemon sour cream one.

*

Karl, Orlando calls from the living room.

Katie yells to ignore him.

Karl ignores them both.

There's jingling and rattling, followed by Orlando screeching like he's lost a toe. Or a finger. Karl isn't fooled. The last time Orlando sounded like that, Katie gave him nothing more than a black eye. Orlando had deserved it.

The screech is followed by a silence so loud that Karl almost goes to investigate. Almost.

Crazy, not stupid. His mother didn't raise any fools.

He keeps his gaze firmly focused on the batch of gingerbread in front of him.

*

Well? Katie asks, hanging from Karl's right arm and flashing him a bright smile.

Well? Orlando repeats when Karl says nothing, his chin hooked over Katie's shoulder as he peers up at Karl.

For once, Karl has no words. The tree is decorated.

Sort of.

There are lights on it. And ornaments. And clumps of tinsel down one side while the other is woefully untinseled. And the star is even on the top, albeit hanging from it like some sort of chandelier dangle.

There's no rhyme or reason to any of it, and it looks as if two five year olds decorated it.

Which, when Karl considers it, isn't that far off.

It's the _rest_ of the living room that has cornered the market on his attention, however.

Where they got the Christmas pillows, he has no clue. Or the shiny, _glittery_ angels that sit on just about every surface. (He's trying extra hard not to think about the snowmen and Santa Claus figurines that cover the remaining surface. Especially the Santa and Frosty one that is, well, that's hardly a family friendly decoration and he does _not_ want to know where they found it. He doesn't.) 

There's so much garland draped across the walls that it looks like they're living in a forest.

But it's the multiple strands of icicle lights hanging from the ceiling, twinkling a merry red and green, which get the most notice.

He stares up at them. It looks like, he says very calmly, Christmas puked all over the living room.

He doesn't like it, Orlando tells Katie.

He didn't say that, Katie retorts as her elbow digs into Karl's ribs. He might like it.

I might, Karl agrees (and silently prays they didn't decide to decorate the bedroom as well). Who wants pumpkin pie?

And that easily (much like five year olds, which just proves his point), they're distracted.


End file.
